


An Old Practised Art

by anoncock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Leather Kink, Masturbation, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:14:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoncock/pseuds/anoncock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With a night to himself, Sherlock can take the time to indulge himself in the sensation of familiar Italian leather.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Old Practised Art

The door was firmly locked, John was out for the night with Sarah. Sherlock may claim he didn't care, but he did. He cared about this, this was his, this was private.

The wallet was old, well worn, tucked neatly and innocently in the bedside table. Sherlock had built himself a wedge of pillows (perhaps stealing John's as well but he had been courteous enough to stick it at the bottom of the little pile) allowing himself to lounge against the headboard with his legs comfortably spread in anticipation. He absent mindedly rubbed himself through his trousers, already somewhat hard in anticipation despite his age. 

He plucked the simple bi-fold from the corner and spent a minute feeling the surface, letting his fingers indulge and wander. He ran the pad of of one long finger down the fold, feeling the soft wrinkles of age interrupted by well set wrinkles of repetitive actions. He swept his finger across to the cool smooth face of it, running across the ridge created by the edge of the cards. He brought it close and inhaled. Rich smoky, heady, the scent was so subtle yet rich with age. He set the tip of his tongue to the seam and paused to inhale again, his hand slipping down to release his trousers and slip his hand in. His tongue lathed up broadly, absorbing the salty taste that was fine Italian leather, spreading it across his tongue like a luxury. He rubbed lazily at the head of his cock, rolling back the foreskin and tracing the ridges as he licked over the ridge to the top seam, slipping his tongue into the wallet for a moment before moving back down to the ridge with the underside of his tongue. He played along it, his hand holding the wallet feeling the edge that had developed around the shape of the 50p coin that had sat in it for so long. His other hand taking long, lazy, luxurious strokes of his cock.

He played until he got to the fold, sucking it into his mouth with a groan. He sucked weakly for a moment, having to grab himself quiet firmly at the base and bite back a moan as the flavour swept over him. Every sensation felt like a wire tightened too tight. He had not done this since acquiring his new flatmate and he had almost forgotten how heady it could be. 

Taking a deep breath to center himself he pulled off, rubbing his fingers over the light teeth marks in the damp leather until they fades. Leather could be so forgiving in that way. As long as the mark was not to deep it would easily fade away, soothed with a light massage. Easing his cock out of his trousers, he skilfully inverted the wallet with a practised move, thrusting into the gap made with a roll of his hips, cradling it in his hand like a sheath. 

"nuh" He should have dragged the gloves out as well. He wanted to smell it at the same time, keep tasting it as he thrust. Next time.

The wrinkles of the fold were deeper this way, but so familiar, soft and worn across the bottom of his cock. At the top the corner edge of the lines made by the coin brushed along his length with the lightest sensation that lit his nerves on fire. 

He settled into his familiar rhythm, bucking so that the edges brushed against the ridge of his head and his hips. The hand cradling the wallet brushed against his balls with each movement, grazing the sensitive hairs there so lightly it only served to tease him more. It didn't last long, his quick breathing hitching briefly before he broke over the edge towards his release. Not fireworks, hardly earth shattering, but comfortable, familiar, good. He lay back, his head tilted into the headboard, breathing for a moment. Giving himself a moment. He was not as young as he used to be, but he still wasn't done. He still had to clean the wallet up. It was always best to give himself a moment before getting lost again in the taste and smell of that task. He smiled to himself. It really had been too long.


End file.
